When The Company reconvenes at the Inn later that day (jumping ahead a bit in timeline)...
"Good news, I heard back from Lady Stormrider! She was most cordial." He says beaming while he lays out her reply for the company to read.
Sir Chadwick,
I am delighted to hear that you and your stalwart companions are here in Waterdeep. Of course I am happy to assist your efforts however I may. Your deeds are well remembered. Please join me at Stormrise (the Stromrider family estate in the Sea Ward) tomorrow at high sun for lunch and discussions.
Yours
AS
Chadwick seems delighted at the prospect of lunch with the lady.
"I'm sure glad I got those new clothes. It wouldn't do to show up dressed in my old traveling ones." He carries on, mostly talking to himself.
"Trolkarl, what kind of bow do you think is fitting in this kind of scenario? You think this is too formal? Is this too familiar?" He seems to have go from giddy, to nervous quickly.
Starker finds a goldsmith to take the “Gold dragon comb with red garnet eyes (750g)” and install the eyes in the mindflayer skull atop his quarterstaff and then form the gold comb into a circlet and affix it to the skull.
Yartol has taken a room at an inn in the South Ward,The House of Good Spirits. “You can find me there when you are ready to move on,” he says as you part ways. “We should probably find some kind of action to do before we go pay Gryndenur a visit. We will need to be a team facing him. Not a good time for us to fight together the first time,” he adds.
Yartol sketches out a simple map. "It is deep in the mountain range. There is a valley approaching the base of the mountain," he points to places on his map. "Unless you want to scale two or three peaks to approach from a different direction?," he asks looking around.
"There is a slope of scree and debris from the collapsed walls and towers that used to guard the entrance. That will take most of two days to traverse. Once inside, it is fairly straightforward. There is an entry cavern, mines below, a pass through what used to be workshops and apartments and then the grand hall above where Gryndrenur has his lair. The roof is fractured allowing him to fly in and out of his lair. He has burrowed tunnels as well, but, I don't know where those lead," he concludes.
Starker:”Perhaps Lady Stormrider could drop us off on the top of the mountain and we could rain web, arrows, and fire on the wyrm while it sleeps to open the dance?”
High Sun the following day arrives. All of the primping and preening is accomplished. Chadwick has a new outfit:
The rest of you are as prettified as capable. The butler receives you at the door after the gateman admits you. Stormrise is palatial. It rivals the palace in Cormyr.
Lady Stormrider enters the salon you are shown to very shortly after your arrival. She immediately greets you, “Welcome to Stormrise, all of you. This meeting certainly is much more pleasant for me than our first!,” she says with a laugh and curtsy. “Please, come and be comfortable,” she says gesturing to couches and chairs while staff arrive with wine, ale and plates of canapés. “Tell me of your journeys since we last saw one another.”
(As Lady Stormrider welcomes the Company into the grand salon of Stormrise, Xymox steps forward with poised grace—more noble than rogue, though the shadows at the edges of his garb betray a history of moonlit roads. He offers a deep, fluid bow, one hand sweeping the brim of his hat, the other placed over his heart. His voice is velvet, woven with mirth.)
Xymox: "Lady Stormrider—what a delight to be received not by storm or steel, but by warmth and wine. The welcome you offer speaks not only to your refinement, but to your memory… and your mercy."
(He straightens, violet eyes gleaming with practiced charm.)
"I am Xymox Xel’Mizzrym, humble servant of song and shadow, and the one tasked with turning this Company’s feats and follies into something resembling poetry. A challenge, to be sure—but a worthy one."
(He casts a glance to the elegant spread of food and drink.)
"Your table, I must say, rivals your renown. If your walls have half as many tales as your kitchen has spices, I may be forced to compose an ode to Waterdhavian hospitality before the week is out."
(Then, softening his tone, more measured.)
"We are honored to be your guests, and curious what winds have reached your halls. We chase rumors and reasons alike—dragons in the north, dangers less visible... yet just as sharp."
(He steps lightly aside, giving space to his companions, but remains near, watchful and ready—an echo of music poised to swell.)
High Sun the following day arrives. All of the primping and preening is accomplished. Chadwick has a new outfit:
The rest of you are as prettified as capable. The butler receives you at the door after the gateman admits you. Stormrise is palatial. It rivals the palace in Cormyr.
Lady Stormrider enters the salon you are shown to very shortly after your arrival. She immediately greets you, “Welcome to Stormrise, all of you. This meeting certainly is much more pleasant for me than our first!,” she says with a laugh and curtsy. “Please, come and be comfortable,” she says gesturing to couches and chairs while staff arrive with wine, ale and plates of canapés. “Tell me of your journeys since we last saw one another.”
Ha. That fits my image of Sir Chadwick in his court splendor!
Kragen moves forward, having worn his priest vestments as the only thing he owns that would be presentable enough in front of high born.
"Lady Stormrider, it warms my heart to see you well! Thank you for the audience." Lowers his gaze and moves to the side to allow Trolkarl and Chadwick to address the Lady.
Looks askance at Starker to make sure he didn't bring that damnable staff with the Illithid skull on it. The horror the Lady would have!
Trolkarl steps forward and bows deeply, arms at his side- formal but not stiff.
Lady Stormrider, it is a comfort and privilege to find you in such good health. Please accept our thanks for your generous hospitality- of late, we have grown far more accustomed to campfires rather than canapés.
Offers a brief grin It is no small thing to open one's doors to a company of adventurers. I trust that by our conduct- past and present- we prove ourselves worthy of the trust you have extended today.
His gaze shifts slightly to Chadwick- knowing the importance Chadwick placed on this moment Sir Chadwick's heart is as vast as his oath is binding- and he leads with both. Though having set aside his armor today, I've no doubt he remains no less resolute in his purpose-ensuring your good health during our time in Waterdeep.
Orange may not be the color of war, but it certainly is a declaration. And boldness has always suited Sir Chadwick.
Starker:”Well met, Lady Stormrider. I am sorry that I am unable to show you my quarterstaff. I am having its decorations enhanced. When complete it will serve as a timeless reminder of what will happen to the enemies of The Company or to anyone who disturbs your peace when The Company is in aware of your distress.“
Cyrus bows and then capers for her, ending with a flourish of his fez.
Lady Stormrider accepts all of your greetings. Looking upon Cyrus caper about, she laughs with his flourish and claps her hands before her. "How wonderful! I had hoped that the great Cyrus Magnus would accept my invitation as well," she says happily. She calls over one of the attendants who has a small bowl filled with mangoes and other unfamiliar fruits. This is placed upon a small table that is set up with a napkin as a table cloth and a small stool to sit upon. "These are exotic fruits from the jungles of Chult I had my chef obtain just for you," and gives Cyrus an overly formal curtsy. Cyrus' eyes grow wide and he eagerly dives into the fruits after taking his place at his own table.
She accepts a gold gilded glass goblet filled with wine from one of the attendants and then sits lithely down into one of the overstuffed chairs in the room. "Please, everyone be comfortable," she invites you as the staff exits the room, closing the doors behind you. "You are secure here. Let us speak freely. How have you been?," she says to all of you while looking to Chadwick.
Starker: “The most important accomplishment of The Company since we last saw you was the completion of my manuscript ‘On the Forced LaMarckian Atainment of Inheritable Attributes in Familiars, Parts I and II.’ Master Charletin is having copies made and I am sure you can acquire several at a volume discount. I will put in a good word.”
“Master Charletin?,” she says turning to Starker. “His school is not far from here in the North Ward?,” she continues. Her questions more statements than interrogatories. “I would very much appreciate that, Master Statker.. My impression was that familiars would be more resistant to LaMarckian transmission compared to their more mundane counterparts. I am eager to learn the outcome of your study.”
Cyrus looks up from his bowl of exotic fruits. He looks about the room to each of you, his eyes particularly beady. Then resumes enjoying his rarified repast.
Lady Stormrider we have spent these past weeks not only chasing threats in fallen dwarves ruins but also aiding our homelands- defending our roots even as the road pulls us down.Those who carry more than one oath walk a narrow path. I’ve found it helps to walk it among friends.
It’s a rare comfort to sit without armor—of body or soul. But even in peace, some burdens remain.
“Agreed, Trolkarl of Cormyr. I hope that all is well in your kingdom and home. I have not been there myself. The description of the beauty of the land framed by mountains to the west and the Sea of Fallen Stars to the east is well known,” she replies. Turning to Xymox, “We have not met until today. How did you become a part of The Company? And,” to the rest of you, “where is Gneuman? I had hoped to see him and his friend….Ajax?…is it?”
Chadwick’s polished boots click and echo in the grand hall as he steps inside, shoulders broad beneath the cut of his black doublet and white linen shirt. His breeches are well tailored deep grey, like a turbulent sky. Silver thread shimmers subtly on the doublet with each stride, catching the light like starlight on a moonless sea. His holy symbol gleaming on his chest with the look of freshly polished silver. His longsword now sheathed in a black lacquered scabbard adds to the severe look of the outfit. The scrap of leather usually holding back his long flowing hair has been replaced with a silver clasp with Tyr’s scale and hammer engraved.
His deep blue eyes swept the room, and when they find Lady Arin, his pace slows.
A gentle sincere smile touched his lips, like the flicker of a candle held against the wind. He bows gracefully, almost as if he is asking her to dance.
"Lady Arin," he said, voice low and warm, the way one speaks when they carry both reverence and memory. "It lifts the heart to find familiar grace after so long.”
He waits for her reply, maintaining eye contact just a beat longer than necessary watching her eyes for something more than courtly courtesy.
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When The Company reconvenes at the Inn later that day (jumping ahead a bit in timeline)...
"Good news, I heard back from Lady Stormrider! She was most cordial." He says beaming while he lays out her reply for the company to read.
Sir Chadwick,
I am delighted to hear that you and your stalwart companions are here in Waterdeep. Of course I am happy to assist your efforts however I may. Your deeds are well remembered. Please join me at Stormrise (the Stromrider family estate in the Sea Ward) tomorrow at high sun for lunch and discussions.
Yours
AS
Chadwick seems delighted at the prospect of lunch with the lady.
"I'm sure glad I got those new clothes. It wouldn't do to show up dressed in my old traveling ones." He carries on, mostly talking to himself.
"Trolkarl, what kind of bow do you think is fitting in this kind of scenario? You think this is too formal? Is this too familiar?" He seems to have go from giddy, to nervous quickly.
Starker finds a goldsmith to take the “Gold dragon comb with red garnet eyes (750g)” and install the eyes in the mindflayer skull atop his quarterstaff and then form the gold comb into a circlet and affix it to the skull.
We should also sell the Black Sapphire so whoever is involved with the split can get their 838gp
(comb and sapphire from Deep Wave mine hoard).
Goldsmith activities done.
You all notice the relative absence of Hoid. He has been spending his time at the armorer’s or a nearby tavern frequented by armorers and mercenaries.
Yartol has taken a room at an inn in the South Ward,The House of Good Spirits. “You can find me there when you are ready to move on,” he says as you part ways. “We should probably find some kind of action to do before we go pay Gryndenur a visit. We will need to be a team facing him. Not a good time for us to fight together the first time,” he adds.
"Yartol, could you draw us a map of the surrounding area and it's lair? The more info we have the better we can strategize."
Yartol sketches out a simple map. "It is deep in the mountain range. There is a valley approaching the base of the mountain," he points to places on his map. "Unless you want to scale two or three peaks to approach from a different direction?," he asks looking around.
"There is a slope of scree and debris from the collapsed walls and towers that used to guard the entrance. That will take most of two days to traverse. Once inside, it is fairly straightforward. There is an entry cavern, mines below, a pass through what used to be workshops and apartments and then the grand hall above where Gryndrenur has his lair. The roof is fractured allowing him to fly in and out of his lair. He has burrowed tunnels as well, but, I don't know where those lead," he concludes.
Starker:”Perhaps Lady Stormrider could drop us off on the top of the mountain and we could rain web, arrows, and fire on the wyrm while it sleeps to open the dance?”
High Sun the following day arrives. All of the primping and preening is accomplished. Chadwick has a new outfit:
The rest of you are as prettified as capable. The butler receives you at the door after the gateman admits you. Stormrise is palatial. It rivals the palace in Cormyr.
Lady Stormrider enters the salon you are shown to very shortly after your arrival. She immediately greets you, “Welcome to Stormrise, all of you. This meeting certainly is much more pleasant for me than our first!,” she says with a laugh and curtsy. “Please, come and be comfortable,” she says gesturing to couches and chairs while staff arrive with wine, ale and plates of canapés. “Tell me of your journeys since we last saw one another.”
(As Lady Stormrider welcomes the Company into the grand salon of Stormrise, Xymox steps forward with poised grace—more noble than rogue, though the shadows at the edges of his garb betray a history of moonlit roads. He offers a deep, fluid bow, one hand sweeping the brim of his hat, the other placed over his heart. His voice is velvet, woven with mirth.)
Xymox:
"Lady Stormrider—what a delight to be received not by storm or steel, but by warmth and wine. The welcome you offer speaks not only to your refinement, but to your memory… and your mercy."
(He straightens, violet eyes gleaming with practiced charm.)
"I am Xymox Xel’Mizzrym, humble servant of song and shadow, and the one tasked with turning this Company’s feats and follies into something resembling poetry. A challenge, to be sure—but a worthy one."
(He casts a glance to the elegant spread of food and drink.)
"Your table, I must say, rivals your renown. If your walls have half as many tales as your kitchen has spices, I may be forced to compose an ode to Waterdhavian hospitality before the week is out."
(Then, softening his tone, more measured.)
"We are honored to be your guests, and curious what winds have reached your halls. We chase rumors and reasons alike—dragons in the north, dangers less visible... yet just as sharp."
(He steps lightly aside, giving space to his companions, but remains near, watchful and ready—an echo of music poised to swell.)
Ha. That fits my image of Sir Chadwick in his court splendor!
Kragen moves forward, having worn his priest vestments as the only thing he owns that would be presentable enough in front of high born.
"Lady Stormrider, it warms my heart to see you well! Thank you for the audience." Lowers his gaze and moves to the side to allow Trolkarl and Chadwick to address the Lady.
Looks askance at Starker to make sure he didn't bring that damnable staff with the Illithid skull on it. The horror the Lady would have!
Trolkarl steps forward and bows deeply, arms at his side- formal but not stiff.
Lady Stormrider, it is a comfort and privilege to find you in such good health. Please accept our thanks for your generous hospitality- of late, we have grown far more accustomed to campfires rather than canapés.
Offers a brief grin
It is no small thing to open one's doors to a company of adventurers. I trust that by our conduct- past and present- we prove ourselves worthy of the trust you have extended today.
His gaze shifts slightly to Chadwick- knowing the importance Chadwick placed on this moment
Sir Chadwick's heart is as vast as his oath is binding- and he leads with both. Though having set aside his armor today, I've no doubt he remains no less resolute in his purpose-ensuring your good health during our time in Waterdeep.
Orange may not be the color of war, but it certainly is a declaration. And boldness has always suited Sir Chadwick.
Starker:”Well met, Lady Stormrider. I am sorry that I am unable to show you my quarterstaff. I am having its decorations enhanced. When complete it will serve as a timeless reminder of what will happen to the enemies of The Company or to anyone who disturbs your peace when The Company is in aware of your distress.“
Cyrus bows and then capers for her, ending with a flourish of his fez.
Lady Stormrider accepts all of your greetings. Looking upon Cyrus caper about, she laughs with his flourish and claps her hands before her. "How wonderful! I had hoped that the great Cyrus Magnus would accept my invitation as well," she says happily. She calls over one of the attendants who has a small bowl filled with mangoes and other unfamiliar fruits. This is placed upon a small table that is set up with a napkin as a table cloth and a small stool to sit upon. "These are exotic fruits from the jungles of Chult I had my chef obtain just for you," and gives Cyrus an overly formal curtsy. Cyrus' eyes grow wide and he eagerly dives into the fruits after taking his place at his own table.
She accepts a gold gilded glass goblet filled with wine from one of the attendants and then sits lithely down into one of the overstuffed chairs in the room. "Please, everyone be comfortable," she invites you as the staff exits the room, closing the doors behind you. "You are secure here. Let us speak freely. How have you been?," she says to all of you while looking to Chadwick.
Starker: “The most important accomplishment of The Company since we last saw you was the completion of my manuscript ‘On the Forced LaMarckian Atainment of Inheritable Attributes in Familiars, Parts I and II.’ Master Charletin is having copies made and I am sure you can acquire several at a volume discount. I will put in a good word.”
“Master Charletin?,” she says turning to Starker. “His school is not far from here in the North Ward?,” she continues. Her questions more statements than interrogatories. “I would very much appreciate that, Master Statker.. My impression was that familiars would be more resistant to LaMarckian transmission compared to their more mundane counterparts. I am eager to learn the outcome of your study.”
Cyrus looks up from his bowl of exotic fruits. He looks about the room to each of you, his eyes particularly beady. Then resumes enjoying his rarified repast.
Lady Stormrider we have spent these past weeks not only chasing threats in fallen dwarves ruins but also aiding our homelands- defending our roots even as the road pulls us down.Those who carry more than one oath walk a narrow path. I’ve found it helps to walk it among friends.
It’s a rare comfort to sit without armor—of body or soul. But even in peace, some burdens remain.
“Agreed, Trolkarl of Cormyr. I hope that all is well in your kingdom and home. I have not been there myself. The description of the beauty of the land framed by mountains to the west and the Sea of Fallen Stars to the east is well known,” she replies. Turning to Xymox, “We have not met until today. How did you become a part of The Company? And,” to the rest of you, “where is Gneuman? I had hoped to see him and his friend….Ajax?…is it?”
Chadwick’s polished boots click and echo in the grand hall as he steps inside, shoulders broad beneath the cut of his black doublet and white linen shirt. His breeches are well tailored deep grey, like a turbulent sky. Silver thread shimmers subtly on the doublet with each stride, catching the light like starlight on a moonless sea. His holy symbol gleaming on his chest with the look of freshly polished silver. His longsword now sheathed in a black lacquered scabbard adds to the severe look of the outfit. The scrap of leather usually holding back his long flowing hair has been replaced with a silver clasp with Tyr’s scale and hammer engraved.
His deep blue eyes swept the room, and when they find Lady Arin, his pace slows.
A gentle sincere smile touched his lips, like the flicker of a candle held against the wind. He bows gracefully, almost as if he is asking her to dance.
"Lady Arin," he said, voice low and warm, the way one speaks when they carry both reverence and memory. "It lifts the heart to find familiar grace after so long.”
He waits for her reply, maintaining eye contact just a beat longer than necessary watching her eyes for something more than courtly courtesy.